Two Notes in History

With two notes, Steven Spielberg and John Williams changed the history of cinema, in the most unthinkable way possible. Cast your mind back to 1974, in a time before special effects, CGI, and the internet: Spielberg was amidst his troublesome shoot for his first big monster movie Jaws, a thrilling aquatic pursuit for a monstrously large great white shark. Now infamous, the shoot for Spielberg was a disaster: the problems with shooting at sea, as well as dealing with the creation of an enormous shark, meant that the budget had ballooned in size, from $4 million to an eventual $9 million. But most fearful of all for Spielberg was this: had it been all for nothing? Had he created an absolute turkey of a movie, of great white proportions?

And to everyone’s surprise, most of all Spielberg’s, it worked. Yes, the script was good, the shark was terrifying, and the tension was on another level, but we all know the real driver behind the force. Perhaps now the two most famous notes in cinematic history, and what was an absolute masterstroke by composer John Williams. These two notes became the shark, they physically represented in our minds the presence of this beast which we weren’t being shown on screen. One might go as far to say that they became a character of their own: the real monster. The most fantastic soundtracks do exactly this: they become an onscreen presence, flitting between the characters like an invisible force. Music can complete a film, a missing piece in a jigsaw to create the sort of mood which the director is aiming for: without this, a scene can be completely misjudged, to hilarious results. Ever tried switching on the mute button during the opening credits of Jaws? Its just water!

Three types of soundtrack come to mind, the first being the classical score. Generally created by a classical composer, this can use anything from a 4-piece to a fully-fledged orchestra, in order to create as diverse a sound as possible. Usually employed in the most dramatic of sequence, a full orchestra can wrench emotions from side to side. Alfred Hitchcock’s collaboration Bernard Hermann in the original slasher Psycho brings to mind visions of shock and fear: the scratching glissandi are symbolic of the knife which comes plunging down onscreen, striking into the audience’s ears. Composer Hans Zimmer has one of the more distinctive sounds in the business: deep sweeping gestures of the orchestra, swelling the scene with drama and character like no other, whether its Jack Sparrow’s swashbuckling antics, or the beautifully tense moments of inception in Inception (obviously). A classical soundtrack is like a modern day symphony: nuanced, emotive, and hugely effective.

The second distinct type is what I have struggled to name the artist’s soundtrack: it is named as such since it describes a soundtrack featuring solely or mainly the songs of one musician or band. In the same way that albums can tell a story, so too can directors employ the help of a specific musician to ease along their narrative. Famously, Mike Nichols collaborated with Simon and Garfunkel on The Graduate, with the infamous Mrs Robinson lending her name to the now famous (in its own right) track, featured distinctly in the film: Nichols used the calming acoustic sound of the duo to accompany his story of adolescent angst and confusion, set against the summer scape of Southern California. Wes Anderson, as is his wont, demolished the fourth wall in The Life Aquatic by inviting musician Seu Jorge to be a character in the film itself, providing fantastic interludes with his Portuguese acoustic renditions of Bowie. The director provides a gateway for the musician’s unique sound into the film, while also creating a wonderful background to the onscreen action.

Last and by no means least is, again hazardously named, the collection soundtrack: this is where the director has assembled a collection of already released songs, in their own right, and laid them over the reel of their film. This, in many ways, offers the director more freedom, but requires a considerable skill: they must be able to tailor these songs appropriately to their film, rather than the other way round. This can work to great effect, however, when the director engages effectively with what the music is trying to communicate. Mr Tarantino is a master at this skill, delving into the deepest confines of music history and plucking out marvellous choices left right and centre: most memorable is the resonance of Stealers Wheel’s ‘Stuck in the Middle With You’ in the excruciating yet oddly compelling torture scene of Reservoir Dogs, or perhaps RZA’s (of Wu Tang fame) mind blowing mash-up of James Brown’s ‘The Payback’ and Tupac’s ‘Untouchable’, launched at the climax of Django’s revenge story. A tricky skill, but one which can lovingly combine the director’s hard cinematographic work, and their love for music.

Music and film go lovingly hand in hand: where would Spielberg be without his Williams, or Nolan without his Zimmer. What have we learnt: all you need is two notes, and the rest is history.

Top 5: Best Soundtracks

5. 2001: A Space Odyssey – Various

Arguably less a film and more an extended music video for some of the classical greats, Kubrick’s mindblowing visuals fit perfectly with the grandeur of Strauss et al. Most memorable is the eye-popping intro accompanied by Wagner’s ecstatically charged ‘Also Sprach Zarathustra’.

4. Little Miss Sunshine – DeVotchKa

Admittedly an outside choice, but one which is a personal favourite. The Denver-based quartet (named after the nadsat word for ‘girl’ in A Clockwork Orange), lay down the heart-wrenching accompaniment for this outstanding tragi-comedy. Never has music been so upbeat yet depressing at the same time.

3. O Brother Where Art Thou? – T Bone Burnett

The phrase ‘country western’ was near taboo before T Bone Burnett got his beautiful hands all over it: uniting greats Norman Blake and Alison Krauss, along with some of the cast itself, Burnett created a foot-stomping, thigh-slapping, and incredibly atmospheric soundtrack for this Depression-era epic.

2. Reservoir Dogs - Various

A sheer stroke of genius: unsatisfied with convention, Tarantino created his own radio station ‘K-Billy’s Super Sounds of the Seventies’ to play all his favourite songs for him. Just so happens this includes some fantastically appropriate, albeit unfitting, melodies to go with this crime thriller. The addition of the monotonous DJ is just spot on hilarious.

1.    There Will Be Blood – Jonny Greenwood

In my opinion, some of the greatest classical music created in the last 20 years: striking, moving, and chilling in equal measure, Greenwood’s score provides the perfect sound to P.T. Anderson’s unflinching look at greed and evil. And all this from the guitarist from Radiohead. Who’d have thought?